


30 days of writing: Part 2

by quiet_one



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Citadel Spoilers, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_one/pseuds/quiet_one
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 days of prompts about Thane & Shepard. In no particular order, following no particular path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. complications

Out of all the things she’d seen, nothing had convinced her of a God. New Gods, Old Gods, Spirits. Soaring temples and words muttered in the darkness. None of it spoke of anything beyond a search for meaning in the chaos that was existence. 

She had never prayed. Until now.

Everyone had gone, and around her the silence seemed to take on its own form in the mausoleum of the apartment she’d been given. Home wasn’t pianos, open fires or plush sofas. Home was sparse metallic spaces, cramped compartments, and the ever yawning void of space.

Once this was over, Shepard would walk out of the door and never return. There was peace in the acceptance of this. She knew where her home was. But before she could leave, there was one thing left to do.

The orchids were still pristine in their dark vase, snowy white petals on long slender stalks. The picture she ignored. 

In the silence, Shepard got slowly to her knees.

“Irikah, I…” Her voice sounded small in the quiet. “Please, look after him. Tell him I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I failed him when he needed me most. I was so busy saving the galaxy for everyone else that I forgot…”

Shepard pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and tried to blot out the sight of Thane lay bleeding, scarlet blooms across green skin. He had not judged her, even then.

She hadn’t forgotten. Events had simply gone beyond her control, complications arising that she could never have foreseen, or prevented, once the pieces were in motion. 

“I forgot to save it for myself,” Shepard muttered. “I wasn’t there when he needed me. But…I can be there for Kolyat. I won’t fail your son. I promise.”

The last fragment of her heart. The one good thing he added to the galaxy.

For the first time Shepard was afraid, not that there was nothing beyond life, but that maybe there was. For now she must bear her burdens alone.

There was a galaxy to save. She had no choice but to do whatever it took, and if necessary walk the path she feared most of all.

To fail. To chance upon an empty beach.


	2. Up

Thane paced, past the pictures of her, past the clothes she’d left folded on the bed, past the datapads stacked on the desk. They were all things she would never come back to. Commander Shepard had been consigned to history.

She was gone, consumed in the blast that had destroyed the Citadel. He had seen it on the screen. Exactly as she had planned. From a safe distance, with EDI’s controls locked to prevent them from doing anything stupid.

So they had all watched, in numb disbelief, as the Commander they had all followed went on one last mission alone.

Garrus had limped into the cockpit, still bleeding, and stood at his side. During Shepard’s last message he had dropped his head and started keening in a tone that only Thane could hear. It wasn’t enough to drown out Shepard’s last words.

_Meet you across the sea._

The message had been pre-recorded. Right there in that room. She had known what was coming. For how long, Thane could not say, but he found himself tumbling through memories scrabbling for some sort of clue.

Last night she had moved over him, a shadow in the darkness. Her eyes had never left his. She had taken her fill, and curled into his side as the hours came by to greet them. Shepard had known even then that she wasn’t coming back. Her hands tracing over his skin had done so for the last time, and Thane felt a fragment of the grief that was to come.

That room contained his last memories of her. It held all the words she hadn’t been able to say, and the truth she had kept from them all. Unless…

He could not say what he was looking for, only that he could not believe she would go to her death without leaving something of herself behind.

Thane headed straight to her desk. The datapads showed nothing more than reports and pictures of the Crucible, things that he had no desire to examine further. _The red arc of light, the wave reaching out into the stars, sweeping away the Reapers._

He couldn’t help the burst of pride in his chest at the knowledge of what she had done. His siha had bested them all, and she had given her life to do it. Thane sat down heavily, and dropped his head into his hands as the memories threatened to overwhelm him.

There was no escaping from them, and everytime he surfaced it was back into a galaxy where she no longer existed, and he was alone save for Kolyat. She had told Kolyat to look after him. Her voice had quivered, but not broken.

Thane opened his eyes and stared blindly at the desk. It took him a moment to process what he was looking at. Tucked away inside a worn weapons manual was a sheaf of paper. When he tugged the manual out of the scattered pile and opened it, Thane found he was staring at a picture of himself.

It was hardly the work of an expert, but somewhere in the economy of her lines, and the black ink, Shepard had captured something. She had drawn him asleep, arms curled under, and his face tilted to the side. His name was written at the bottom in Shepard’s familiar writing, along with the date. It was from just under two weeks ago.

Thane remembered drifting off whilst she sat poring over reports, her hair hanging down over her face as she worked, and he let sleep claim him. When he had woken coughing she had still been awake. Shepard had fetched him a drink, and rubbed his back until the fit passed.

He moved the picture to one side, and found a wealth of drawings. From the dates he judged that she had started drawing long before he met her. They started scrappy, but soon gained in confidence. The shaky lines grew stronger. There were fewer corrections.

Every one she cared about, all the things she had loved, were drawn carefully across the pages and pages of thick paper. Garrus appeared on every other page. Her guns took up a fair amount of space, as did a picture of some armour.

Her last picture was of him.

Thane ran his fingertips over the paper, imagining her head bent to the task, her fingers touching the paper. Somewhere in time they were touching. Somewhere Shepard was waiting for him.

The door opened, and Thane looked up to find Garrus limping in. “EDI’s let us back in the system. We’re going back.”

To the Citadel. Thane rose, and followed the limping turian back up to the cockpit. They were going back. Soon he would see it for his own eyes. He would know her loss for a fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this follows my headcanon, it doesn't specifically run on from my planned ME3 story. You get the idea though.


	3. bound

The siren sounded, and Shepard was on her feet in seconds.

“EDI, status report.”

“There appears to be a disturbance in the med-bay, Doctor—“

“It’s Sere Krios,” Chakwas interrupted over the comms. “I think he’s suffering from some kind of memory loss.”

Shepard was moving, and fast. Thane had received a head injury on planet as a result of some shrapnel. He’d seemed fine until he passed out in the shuttle.

“EDI, tell everyone to stay where they are. Seal all the doors. Disable the shuttle,” Shepard ordered, her bare feet slapping on the cool floors as she made for the first place she thought of.

Doors wouldn’t stop him. Keeping him on ship was an option, but that depended on him.

“Chakwas?” Shepard slid to a halt at the shuttle bay doors. “You got any sedatives that will work?”

“Yes.”

“Send Jack down with them. Nobody else is to interfere. I don’t want him hurt.”

“What about you?”

Shepard touched the door panel and walked into the open space before her. She’d be fine. She had to be.

There was silence. Shepard scanned the room. She caught movement inside the shuttle and stopped as Thane walked slowly out. His expression didn’t change.

“Thane, are you—“

He charged in a blue blur and Shepard raised her barrier, stepping into a defensive position before she could even process the onslaught. She knew how fast he was. She’d trained with him, long enough to know that trading blows with him wasn’t going to work in her favour.

Shepard fended off the first two hits, watched him spin into a low kick, and without a second thought she threw herself through the air and away. Once on top of the shuttle she pivoted and raked her gaze over where Thane had just been.

“Thane, nobody wants to hurt you,” she called. No response. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but this has to stop. I need to talk to you.”

Silence. She rolled off the shuttle, landed neatly and sprang forwards. There was a rush of air close by her ear. Thane was in front of her in a heartbeat.

She reacted as best she could, aiming a messy kick in his direction only for him step neatly aside and knock the air from her with a vicious elbow to the ribs. She’d had worse sparring.

Shepard twisted, biotics flaring, and tried to lift him.

He shimmered blue, and she felt her nerve start to fail. Thane looked implacable, his face set in an expression she had seen only during the fiercest battles. All gentleness had been stripped from him. With no memory of her she could only guess at what was left.

The creature she had found long ago on Illium, or worse, the one that had decimated his wife’s murderers.

She backed down first and, with a barely suppressed clutch of fear, Shepard turned and fled.

“Not so fast,” Thane growled. He cut off her escape route with ease, and Shepard started backing away with her hands raised. Behind her there was only the shuttle bay doors. Opposite her, and behind Thane, was the only way out.

If she took it, if she even managed to get there, there was no way of knowing what Thane would do next. She had to stop this before Cerberus did it for her.

“Thane…listen to me. You know me. Think about where you are,” she said. She took another slow step away as Thane prowled relentlessly forwards.

“I’m not your enemy. I helped you find your son, Kolyat.”

Thane stopped. “What do you know of my son?” His voice was cold.

“He went to the Citadel. I took you there to help him, we—“

“You lie. Kolyat is with his family. Who told you about him?” Thane resumed his slow steps forward and Shepard swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in her throat.

“I know about him because you told me,” she said. “You told me about Irikah, and everything that happened afterwards. Please.” She was begging now, the distress all too clear. Showing fear to the enemy was to hand them another weapon.

He would know she was afraid of him. Of all the things she had felt for him, she had never expected terror to play any part. There was no glint of recognition. She would be as nothing when he struck her down, and she would have no choice but to defend herself with whatever she had left.

Shepard wondered desperately if she should say something else.

“Irikah.” Thane’s voice was heavy. He frowned, glanced down at his hands and struck.

The blow caught her in the collar bone, and she felt a small burst of pain as she drove herself forwards, biotics glowing, and charged him into the side of the shuttle. The impact shook through them both, and Shepard pushed her momentary advantage, scrambling backwards as she used Lift to pluck him off the ground and throw him away from her.

There was no sound of a landing. She knew better than that.

Shepard was already moving, leaping in great glowing bounds up the pipes at the side and onto the maintenance walkways that spanned the roof. He followed her and she skittered to a halt as close to the door as she could manage.

“I’m coming in,” Jack announced over the comm. “Want me to deal with him?”

“No, just shove it through the door,” Shepard snapped, looking around frantically. Thane crouched, and Shepard tipped herself backwards over the edge. She managed to control her landing, only for Thane to land right beside her.

There by the door was a syringe.

She ran for it. There was a heavy blow to the back of her leg, and Shepard felt her leg give way, smacking her down heavily just out of reach of the sedative. There was no reaching it in time. Instead she used her biotics to flick it into her hand and with a scream of frustration, Shepard rolled upright just in time to meet Thane’s charge.

She had to keep him close. His fingers flashed out, Shepard twisted his wrist and Thane span, taking her arm and ramming it up her back. There was a dull snap and Shepard stumbled forwards. She could taste blood in her mouth now. The pain waited.

She threw her head backwards, felt it connect, and pushed herself backwards with everything she had left. They hit something, Thane’s grip loosened and Shepard lashed out with her one working arm.

The syringe went in at his neck, contents discharging instantly.

She stood back and stared. Thane’s eyes cleared and for a moment his brows knitted in confusion, only to be replaced with a look of wide eyed horror.

“Siha, I…” He slumped forwards and Shepard could only slow his fall, letting his weight drag them both down.

She felt his weight settle across her and every part of it hurt, from the blows he had levelled at her, to the sorrow he’d given her as his eyes fluttered shut.

The doors opened and voices poured through. Garrus, Miranda, Doctor Chakwas. Shepard closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what would greet her the next time Thane opened his.

Memory was a fickle thing. 


	4. play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this prompt is here http://archiveofourown.org/works/498408/chapters/967824 and it follows on directly.

Shepard blinked the sleep away, and tried to ease the weight of it from her limbs.

“Are you okay?” The words were automatic.

Thane took the picture from the side of the bed and drew his knees up to sit cross legged on the bed. “You told me about Adin. You did not mention Dospiya.”

“I didn’t remember,” Shepard said. “I don’t have the luxury of a perfect memory. Not that I’d want to remember the way he…” She rubbed her face and tried to forget the rattle of that last breath.

“Anyway, why are you asking about this now? It’s late, we’ve had a long day—“

“You know why. I’ve never thought of you as anybody’s mother. Until today.”

“What, you mean…” It sounded feeble in her own ears and she shut up, knowing that she could not fool him and shouldn’t even try. Shepard sat up properly and told him the truth.

“I owe that little girl a future. What have we seen, in every place we’ve been to? People rebuilding. They don’t want to see me, I’m a bad memory. But I keep going, because what else can I do?” She shook her head. “When I saw Dospi I realized there was something I could do after all.”

“A child would not fit into our lives as they stand.”

_Our._

That was the thing. It was no longer just her. It was her and Thane.

“If you don’t want to do this again tell me. Children were never really part of the deal,” Shepard said, her voice hanging in her throat. She felt Thane’s fingers graze her palm and pull her hand into his.

“I would have to speak to Kolyat. If he approves I see no reason why not.”

“Really?

Shepard laughed, heard it turn into a half cry, and let Thane enfold her in his arms, his body stretching out against hers in the bed. Nothing could puncture the terror and the wild joy she felt under her skin. It was unreachable by any hands. Even his.

“We would need to look at changing our schedule,” Thane said. “The house will need altering. If the Alliance will give you leave we could…”

“I’m done with the Alliance.” The words left her, floating in the air along with the realization that she _was_ done. Everyone else was building a future and not living in the past. Perhaps it was her turn.

“What would we do?” Thane asked.

Shepard switched the bedside lamp off and looked at him in the darkness, his eyes shining. “I have no idea. For once, I’d like to make it up as I go along. No more schedules, or flights to catch. No more people to see. Just us.”

“I think you have earned your rest, siha.” Thane turned on his side and let one arm fall across her waist. “I will go and see Kolyat tomorrow, but Shepard… I cannot do anything to make him unhappy, not now.”

“I understand. Whatever he says, I’m leaving the Alliance.” Shepard closed her eyes. “I want to go home with you.”

She heard Thane’s breathing catch. After long moments it deepened, and she pressed herself close to him. Listening to each breath until sleep claimed her.

\---

The bed was empty when she awoke. There was a note beside the picture.

_Gone to visit Kolyat. I will be in touch when I am done._

Shepard didn’t wait. She cancelled all her appointments, feigning illness, and dressed in the plainest clothes she could find. No more dress blues. They were folded up and put aside ready for later. That could wait.

She found her way back to the Orphanage easily enough. It was only when she reached the door still clutching her bag of breakfast delicacies that she even considered her reception. There was no knowing if Ennai would be there.

Allowing a human in without a prior appointment would be a breach of protocol.

Shepard decided to take the risk. She knocked, and was rewarded. Ennai was still wearing her coat, and she gaped at Shepard for a moment before standing back.

“Come in, we’re finishing breakfast,” Ennai said, taking her coat off as she walked back to the large kitchen. The children were all sat around the table, chattering to each other in their fluted voices.

Some of them fell silent when Shepard walked in. Others let out shrieks. The word ‘Seepa’ was evident amongst them.

Dospi was sat down at the end of the table. She looked happy, tucking into handfuls of fruit and grinning at Shepard as she lurked uncertainly beside the table.

“Sit, eat,” Ennai instructed. She pulled a chair out, fetched a plate, and poured a cold drink.

Maybe this had been a mistake. Shepard tipped her freshly baked breakfast out onto the plate and found herself the centre of attention. The children were eager to trade, and she ended up with a plate of slightly mangled fruit and sweet drell bread that Thane had introduced her to.

Breakfast was over within moments. Ennai, and another drell made sure each of the children was clean before they allowed them to leave the table.

Shepard helped clean up the mess, noting the remains of her original breakfast with a smile.

Ennai watched her, arms folded. “You came back. Why?”

“I…there were some things I wanted to talk to you about,” Shepard admitted. She put the cloth in the wide sink and stood back.

“I see. Does Thane know you are here?”

“He’ll figure it out.”

“Kolyat told me about everything you’ve done for Thane,” Ennai said as she sat down at the damp table. She rubbed the sides of her head, then looked up at Shepard without smiling. “When Thane left, I was glad. I thought it was all his fault once he’d told us what had happened. Who the killers were. Why they came.”

Shepard sat down a few spaces away. “Understandable. Irikah was your sister.”

“She still is, she’s just…” Ennai stopped. Calmed herself. “I wondered why Irikah had accepted him. I know now, but back then I wondered how she could love someone like that. It took me some time to figure it out. Irikah always loved looking after people. It’s why she chose to become a teacher. She said that it made her feel as though she was helping these small people find their way in the world.”

Ennai fell silent. Shepard waited for her to return from the clutches of memory, attention wandering to the sounds of the children at play. She knew what it was like to grow up without parents.

Dospiya had this place at least, even if things did not work out.

“Sorry,” Ennai said, and she sat up straight again. “It is all too tempting to remember those we’ve lost. What I was trying to say is that I think Irikah wanted to do the same for Thane. She met him, saw who he was, and wanted to set him on the right path. Of course, the gods had other ideas.”

“Does Kolyat look like her?”

“Not so much. Wait until you meet our father, then you’ll see.”

“About that, I know Kolyat is visiting, will it be strange? Maybe—“

Ennai laughed. “Strange? After everything that has happened, Thane bringing Commander Shepard to visit will seem almost normal.” She got to her feet, glanced out of the window, and moved towards the door.

“The Reapers…they nearly won didn’t they, but you stopped them.” Her voice was quiet.

“I did. I couldn’t have done it without all of my friends. And Thane.”

“Then maybe she did set him on the right path,” Ennai said. She shook her head, and turned back to look at Shepard. “It is time for lessons now. If you’d like to see Dospi again you could come back tomorrow. If you are serious about this I can write a recommendation once you express interest. In your case I’m sure they can hurry things along.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“Oh yes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Shepard. I trust you can find your own way out.”

“I can. Ennai…thank you.”

“I wouldn’t say that yet. You still have to survive a meal with my family.”

That was something to bear in mind. Shepard left, shutting the front door firmly behind her. There one thing left to wait for. One word.

She messaged Thane, and waited for the reply before setting off for the hotel.

Her steps were light.

 

 


	5. bright

It was her screams that called him. He had left her sleeping, her scarred face pressed hard into the pillow, and her limbs tucked in tight about her. Now she had unfurled.

Shepard had twisted free of the thin cover. Reaching her was the work of moments, but each one of them left a loud, broken, memory in his mind that he would find again in silence. He would recollect each one of them with a steady tremble of guilt.

Thane reached out and took her in his arms, soothing her with the sound of her name and the promise that she was no longer alone. Her skin was burning. He pressed cool fingers to her hot forehead and waited.

It did not take long. Within seconds she had bent into his embrace. The screams died down, and were replaced with drawn out gasps.

They had found her in the wreckage of the Citadel. It had not been him, or Garrus, in the end, but a search party sifting through the debris that drifted silently around the earth.

By the time they reached her, Shepard had been transferred to a medical ship, and from there she was taken to one of the few hospitals left untouched by the war. Miranda had gone with her. That left him and Garrus drifting in the terrible wake Shepard had left behind.

When they were eventually allowed into the hospital room, neither had been prepared. Miranda seemed unmoved. She had, she assured them, seen Shepard in a worse state. If that was supposed to be reassurance it failed, turned aside by the image of the human shaped mass of dressings and needles. Machines surrounded her. They measured the steady heart beat and the faint trace of brain activity.

Somewhere in there was his siha. He could not touch her. She might not survive.

The waiting had begun. Garrus was eventually dragged away, though he made sure to visit whenever the opportunity was given. The others did their best. Thane remained.

He was there when the first dressings were removed, through the ops to replace damaged Cerberus tech and patch up damage done.

Running his hands through Shepard’s hair, he could not help but recall the soft fuzz of her scalp when they finally took the dressings from her head and face. Her hair had been burnt away.

Even now it remained short and scrappy, the merest of inches grown. Her recovery had been slow, but when that word had been given, Thane had taken it upon himself to make sure that recovery was on her terms.

He had left the hospital for the first time in months and come straight to this very house. The contract was signed. Thane stayed long enough to ensure the contractors understood his preferences before going straight back to Shepard’s side.

It had been months before he was allowed to bring her home. Back to that bed. Back only the day before, in the long shadows and darkening skies.

Shepard had not looked out of the window or walked through the house. She had gone straight to the bed Thane had bought for her, in the bedroom he had chosen.

This was not the first morning he had planned. Through in the kitchen was a half laid breakfast tray. A hastily abandoned spray of flowers wilting on the side. Their scent was on his hands as he ran them through her hair.

“You’re safe now, my siha. I have you.”

Shepard’s breath had quieted. She lifted her head and looked up at him. “I was burning. I’m always burning.”

A breeze teased the curtains aside, and pale sunlight fell across the floor. Shepard turned her head at the movement.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For everything I’ve put you through.”

“There is not a second I regret.”

Shepard took a deep, shuddering, breath. “Not for this. For making you fight even when you wanted to give up. For making you suffer all those months in hospital. I know how it feels now.”

He kissed her scalp and held her close. There had been pain, but it had been worth it all for this, he decided. To have the future she had spoken of, and to share that with his son was an undeserved reward.

“Your faith kept me alive. It would be a poor reward if I did not return the favour,” Thane said. “This time will be over, in due course. Your suffering will not last, and no matter what happens, you are not alone.”

She inclined her head towards him. “Thank you.”

The breeze blew again, stronger this time, and the scent of the warm sea filled the room.

“I’d like to look around now,” she said, a faint smile on her face.

Thane released her, and tucked the covers gently around her waist before leaving a kiss on her forehead. “You can. Wait there.”

By the time he came back to the bed, the sun had grown stronger. Shepard was waiting. Her eyes had regained something of their former curiosity, though her face still appeared gaunt and wasted.

“I can’t…”

“You don’t have to,” Thane responded, and he swept her up easily into his arms. She was light. Her muscled frame had leached away. Months of inactivity had rendered her weak.

He carried her across the room and stepped through the curtains onto a balcony that overlooked the sea. A narrow staircase led off it and down to the beach. Thane negotiated it with ease.

The brightness of the day brought Shepard’s scarring into sharp relief. She was a patchwork of lines and ridges. It was something new to learn, even if Miranda had insisted that they would fade given time. Her old ones had, and these ones would do the same, leaving nothing behind but memories.

Shepard was looking beyond her own changed body. Her head turned slowly to take in the wide sweep of the sea, the houses sat back on the sandy ridge, and far beyond them the high reach of the desert and its mountains.

“So this is home?” she asked. “You found everything I wanted.”

“Perfect memory,” Thane said, and he lowered her feet to the sand as they reached the small table and chairs he had set up by the water’s edge. The parasol twirled in the breeze. Shepard lowered herself into one of the chairs, and her face split into a smile as Thane pulled the cloth from behind her back and tucked it carefully around her shoulders.

“I should look round the rest of the house when we get back, see if you got the bath bit right.”

Thane merely smiled and poured the iced tea out into the gold embellished glass. He pushed the small medicine cup towards her alongside her tea.

She didn’t complain. Painkillers had become part of her routine. Shepard downed it without her usual nose wrinkle and lifted the glass of tea onto her lap. The sound of the waves lapped over them.

This was a small piece of everything that he had wanted. A fragment of a life he’d looked for, and almost given up hoping for back in that hospital life as he gasped for breath.

He looked up at the house he had found for her, and the smile on Shepard’s face. The first night was over. The hardest part was done.

They were home at last.


	6. strip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by andromedashepardkrios over on tumblr.

Shepard looks up at me, her brows creasing, as I toss the clothes onto the bed.

“Here. These are yours.”

Shepard ignores them and stares at me. She licks her cracked lips as she readies her question. “Why do I need these?”

“We’re going shopping.”

Her surprise vanishes in a heartbeat. There is worry there, and a veil of exhaustion that has settled over her these last few months. It does not suit my siha. She hides in bed as though it will solve all her problems. She watches the Citadel from the safety of her window as I once did. There is still time for her to stretch her wings before life calls her out.

“I can’t go shopping,” Shepard says, though she tugs at the fabric of the top I bought. It is dark and warm. She has no desire to stand out yet. “The doctor—“

“The doctor said a short walk will do you good. You haven’t left this place since they brought you in.” Broken, a gasp away from death. The last time Shepard left this place on her own two feet had been very different. A time marked by his illness and her desperation. The memories are not kind.

I see her consider the angles and look for the exit.

“A short walk.” She pulls the clothes onto her lap. “How about the gift shop?”

It is but two floors away. An elevator ride. A short, busy, corridor leading past the main visitor area and out past the canteen that services visitors.

“The gift shop it is.” I walk the room as she strips, humming to cover her discomfort as she exposes her wasted body. There are new scars revealed with every movement, and her strong, straight, back curves as she huddles over herself. She has yet to come to terms with her injuries.

I wait for her signal before turning back to look.

Shepard looks less like a patient now she is dressed in something other than the thin cotton smock the hospital favours. She looks warm and substantial clothed in the things I found for her.

When I draw close she does not shrink from my touch. Instead she leans closer, enough to rest her head against my shoulder, and I breathe in her scent with careless indulgence.

Hidden beneath the sterile odour of the hospital is a hint of the woman I love. I can close my eyes and remember the smell of sweat on her skin, or blood from her enemies, or the scent of her freshly washed and climbing into bed beside me. I content myself with this.

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” Shepard says, and we set out hand in hand.

No one pays any attention as we pass. They are used to us by now. Downstairs will be a different matter. Shepard knows this. Her grip grows tighter. She pulls her hood forwards and shuffles her feet as the elevator bears us downwards.

When the doors open I feel her fear and have to supress my regret. This is necessary. I know that, as does she. I lead the way.

“Is there anything you had in mind?” I ask, watching those around us. No body stands out. We draw no more than three people’s attention. They are harmless.

“Not really,” Shepard says quietly. Once we are in the shop she relaxes. There are few other people in there, and the shelves offer good cover.

She lets go of my hand and reaches for a snow globe. It is nothing special. The Citadel, crudely painted and incorrect, swims amidst a sea of glitter. Shepard tips it without comment before putting it back on the shelf and watching the glitter settle.

“Do people really buy this crap?” she asks, looking around for the shop assistant. He is busy.

I note a small plant on the shelf behind her that Joker brought the last time he visited. He looked worn. A gift had been the last thing on his mind after the loss of EDI.

“What about this?” I ask, throwing her a glass paperweight and watching the response.

Shepard is slow. She fumbles the catch, and there is a distinct sound of breaking glass at her feet. She frowns at me, then squats to pick up the pieces.

I stop her; take both of her hands in mine as we crouch on the floor. It is there that we spot the model kit. It is the Citadel, complete with repairs after the attack by Sovereign.

Footsteps draw closer, and I rise to intercept the shop assistant. He blinks at me, reconsidering his words at speed.

“Shall I clean that up for you?” he offers.

“Please.” I step back and realize Shepard is still crouching. She picks up the model and stands slowly, grimacing as she straightens.

The assistant starts sweeping.

I cannot look away from Shepard. She is grinning. She stares at me with a smile that holds me to the spot.

“I seem to have forgotten my money,” she says, one of her hands reaching for me.

I take the box from her fingers and pay for it once the assistant has finished cleaning.

Shepard’s step is lighter as we walk back towards the elevator. Back in the room, she keeps the clothes on, ignoring the fresh smock, and starts to build her model with stiff fingers.

I don’t need to help. I watch and I wait.

My siha makes the Citadel and puts the finished creation onto the bedside table, knocking aside cards and plants. She looks at it with satisfaction. Her hands are sticky with glue.

It isn’t perfect. But for now it is home.

 

 

 


	7. Innocence: The Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of notes - Cora is my headcanon Shep name. Dominic and Ena are the couple that took her in from the streets as a child. Simon is the little boy that led her to Dominic and Ena. More notes on backstory at the end.

He had memorized the dossier. The category. The location. The target.

Sitting beneath the pale grey sky, Thane found that the words did not translate the way he had expected. Printed on a piece of paper, his first kill had seemed clear and precise. He would do exactly as he had trained to do.

His body, skilled and light, waited at the chosen place as he watched the back of the house. Rain started to fall, a light drift that settled across his scales in tiny beaded drops. A wind, mild and sweet, picked up the scent of the flowers that surrounded the house and swept over his hiding place.

She was in there. The target. This was to be her last morning before crossing the sea to meet her maker. He would bear her there with Amonkira’s blessing.

Thane heard the back door open and raised his scope. There she was. She moved about her kitchen with careless steps. Music drifted from the open door. There was the sound of clinking china. Cutlery rustling in the drawer. The smell of food soon reached him.

This woman had been designated as his first. Her category had been marked as the lowest. She was of no risk to anyone. She had no training, no history that would mark her out as special or make her a threat.

She would meet her death all the same.

He dropped from his hiding place, muscles ready to take him forwards, every sense keening towards the pulse and the movement of the creature inside the house.

She was singing. Not every word, but broken, intermittent fragments.

Thane crossed the wet grass, paused beside the door, and stepped into the kitchen. His footsteps were silent.

Even without training, she sensed the movement. It was too late. His hands were already on her neck. There was the quick twist of bones beneath his hands, and the woman crumpled against him.

She was warm as Thane lowered her to the tiled floor. It had seemed somehow wrong to let her fall. She lay at his feet, eyes staring sightlessly out of the door to where the rain was falling heavier now.

He ought to leave. The food was cooling on the side. There was butter on the woman’s fingers and crumbs at her mouth. On the wall, photographs fluttered as they caught the breeze.

There she was, frozen in time, suspended in life with a smile on her face and her arms around some stranger.

In the quiet Thane wondered what she had done to bring him to her door. The order had come from someone, one of the faces in the pictures perhaps.

This woman had been of no threat to anyone, but she was dead all the same, and at his hands.

Thane reminded himself that not all kills would be like this. Sometimes the kill would fight back.

When Thane had questioned his masters, they had told him that he was already dead. His life had been given up the moment he came into their care, and Thane had accepted their words with a nod and a clasp of his hands.

The rain spattered on the floor. It was time to leave. Thane crouched beside the woman and said a prayer, his fingers skimming over the unresisting skin of her eyelids to close them for the last time.

One unrepentant thought stayed with him. A conviction of her innocence. He had not been taught to question, but to see his work through. He would never know why she had to die.

Thane silenced the thought, and left.

\---

She was staring down the blade of a knife. One of her friends was screaming.

Cora looked at the boy holding the knife. He was at least three years older than her, and had the weight to back it up.

“You know, we’ve heard about the shit you Reds have been up to,” he said. “Figure we’re doing everyone a favour.”

What had they done besides a few fights, a couple of thefts? Shepard looked to Nathan. His brother was the so called leader of the Reds, and he was being shown the error of his ways. One boy was sat on him whilst a girl kicked him in the head.

The others had run away. No one was coming to save them.

“A favour?” Cora asked, her eyes fixing on the knife. There was old blood in the serrated edges. “I don’t understand.”

The boy holding the knife laughed. “You wouldn’t. You’re all as thick as each other. We kill you, and we make the city a safer place. No one will miss you. No one that matters.”

None of them mattered there in that dirty, forgotten, city. Her room would lie empty. Ena and Dominic would wonder if it was something they’d done. Simon would be friendless and unprotected.

Fight or die. Cora Shepard felt her heart quicken. She stepped forwards, hand on the boy’s wrist, and moved with every memory of her years spent fending for herself. Before Dominic and Ena, before Simon, this is what she had been.

The boy was caught off guard. The knife was heavy in her hand, and she felt a beat of surprise as she moved behind him and slid the knife in under his ribs.

It went in easy. The boy fell to the ground and lay still.

Cora clutched the knife hard and walked slowly towards those holding Nathan. “Get off him,” she said. Her voice sounded dry and cracked. “Get off. Now.”

The remaining attackers looked at each other. A thought passed between them, and they got slowly to their feet.

“She killed him,” the girl muttered.

The boy swore under his breath. He advanced with his hands held up. “Give me that knife.”

“I’m not stupid,” Cora said. The knife was shaking in her hands. There was no way she could take both of them, and she started backing up. “You get away from me.”

“Better do as she says,” Nathan said. He was back on his feet. His face was covered in blood. His voice was muffled and full of hurt.

The odds had tipped in her favour. The attackers moved, and Cora screamed as the girl lunged at her. She waved the knife wildly, saw the tip meet skin, and blood spurt from the entry point.

Nathan was on the boy. They scuffled in the dirt.

The girl lay choking, her hands scrabbling at her neck.

Cora could only stare. She hadn’t wanted to die, but surely this girl hadn’t deserved to death either. Maybe they had been right. Maybe the world would be better off without the Reds.

Stumbling, stomach turning, Cora turned away and vomited. Her breakfast splattered across the floor. Behind her all had gone quiet.

“Nathan?”

He grabbed hold of her hand and started pulling her away. “We have to go.”

“Are they dead?” Cora asked, trying to look back over her shoulder. “Nathan, are they dead?”

“Yes.”

“I killed them.” Cora tried to pull her arm from Nathan’s grasp, but he held tighter, forcing her onwards through the cluttered passages that skirted behind the main thoroughfare.

She retched, and this time Nathan let go of her.

He paced away a few steps then back again. “You had no choice. They would have killed both of us if they had chance.”

“But I haven’t…” Cora wiped her mouth, closed her eyes, and saw the girl wide eyed and terrified. She felt the slide of the knife in her hands. “I’ve never killed anyone.”

There was a noise in the street. Nathan crouched down and put one hand on Cora’s shoulder. “The first time is always the hardest, but you get used to it.”

“I don’t want to.”

Nathan got to his feet and shrugged. “Like it or not, there’s going to be more of that. You will get used to it. Now get up, we’d better get as far away as we can.”

It wasn’t the police he feared, but retribution from the other gangs.

Cora took the hint. She started running.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be another loosely connected second part for this prompt. I'm interested in how lack of choices, or the wrong choices, can effect their stories.
> 
> You can find more of Cora's back story in 'Sticks and Stones,' and 'Space Dust'.


	8. flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my contribution to Shrios fluff week over on tumblr.

The morning dawned quiet and still. It was the silence that she most regretted, and Shepard had no desire to break it. The bed was cold beside her. There was no pounding of small feet or laughter.

Shepard ignored the uniform on the side and headed straight for the tiny kitchen. She placed the call as she walked and got exactly the same response as she had last night. Nothing.

Thane had messaged back a few hours later to offer an apology and an explanation. Dospi was having trouble settling without her there, and although the attached picture showed her sleeping soundly, it had taken hours of storytelling and lullabies to get her there.

There was also the time difference to consider. Shepard knew it was late morning there now, and that there were a million different things they could be doing—Swimming in the sea, playing on the beach or wandering around the local market.

Shepard poured her lone cup of tea and retreated back to bed. Her head ached. It had been a mistake to try and ply her loneliness with wine. In her drunken dreams she had seen things long forgotten. Empty houses, discarded toys and desiccated hands curled into claws.

She hated sleeping alone. At least when she awoke at home Thane was inches away. On the worst nights she would steal into Dospi’s room and curl up on the chair in the corner, comforted by the knowledge that the little girl was safe and in arms reach.

This was a mistake. She should have brought Thane and Dospi with her. Shepard got into her heavy uniform, ran her fingers through her hair, and set out to meet the aide she’d been assigned.

Casson was young, twitchy, and eager to help. He treated her with a deference she quickly found irritating. It also served as a reminder that she had been right to leave. She was done with the military, and they were done with her beyond the odd ceremony or call for advice.

Once this was over Shepard was catching the first flight home. She could be back on home soil within twenty-four hours if she was lucky.

She found Casson waiting for her. His hair was immaculate, his uniform crisply pressed and of a different cut to hers. He was the future of the Alliance and she was the past. Shepard felt stiff as she saluted. “Lieutenant Casson.”

“Commander.” His salute was perfect. “The transport is waiting. Everything is running according to plan.”

Shepard smiled. There was always a first time. “Then let’s get this over with.”

The young man’s smile faltered for a split second. He filled the silence as they climbed into the waiting transport, detailing new additions to the fleet and changes to the command structure since she’d left.

It was all old news. Kaidan kept her up to date with everything, going as far as sending her top secret plans for the Normandy’s sister ship. She’d gone over them with Garrus.

When this was over she ought to visit him. What had it been now? Shepard stared out of the window at the passing scenery as she recalled the date. It had been over two months. She’d have to call him when this was all done.

“Erm, Commander? We’re here.” Casson smiled nervously at her.

There was already a crowd waiting outside, most of them Alliance. The others seemed to be members of the media.

This time Casson let her lead the way. She shook hands, smiled until her face hurt, and willed it to be over. Eventually she was released from the small talk and guided to her seat in front of a low stage, and a large frame covered with a deep blue curtain. The statue. This could only get worse.

Shepard heard the noise building behind her as the seats filled. She was supposed to be giving a speech. It was something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her days consisted of nothing but the sunshine, talking with Dospi, and whispering to Thane as the night fell and she tumbled into his arms.

There were no words she could summon. Admiral Keita took to the podium and started speaking. She gestured at Shepard and applause filled the air, prompting Shepard to get to her feet and take to the stage.

The crowd was a blur. Shepard concentrated on the pull cord in front of her and took a deep breath. _Focus_ , she told herself, remembering Thane’s calm voice. She pulled the cord.

The statue was exposed to the pale sunshine, and there was the loud shriek of a child.

Shepard glanced at the statue and frowned before scanning the crowd. Her heart was leaping. The sea of faces was turned upwards towards her.

One green. One pale blue. Dospi was waving her arms towards her, fingers star fishing through the air, and with a colossal force of will Shepard made herself remain on the podium. Silence fell.

Her breath was coming easier now. Thane was within reach.

She had no idea what she said, but there was a round of applause afterwards, and she caught Thane smiling as she blundered back to her seat. Her head kept swivelling round to find them in the crowd. Her feet were twitching.

The instant the ceremony finished Shepard was on her feet and darting through the crowd. People were trying to catch her attention. She trod on someone’s foot and made no attempt to apologise.

Thane met her halfway with Dospi still in his arms. She grabbed hold of Shepard and wrapped her arms about her neck. Thane put his arms around them both and pressed a kiss to Shepard’s smiling lips.

“I had a feeling you would change your mind,” he murmured into her ear.

“And you were right.” Shepard scooted Dospi onto her hip and took Thane’s hand. They went to stand in front of the statue.

“Mama,” Dospi said. She squirmed until Shepard put her down.

“The nose is wrong,” Shepard said, watching as the little girl patted the statue’s legs. She slid her arm around Thane’s waist. “Is my nose really that big?”

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned about the armour,” someone said behind her, and she noted the tall shadows beside her. Two familiar turian children scrambled past and started laughing at the statue.

“Damn sight better than yours,” Shepard retorted, elbowing Garrus.

“At least they got the armour right,” Garrus said, and he scooped Dospi up, throwing her into the air until she screamed.

“I think she’s right,” Nym said, grinning at her husband before turning to Shepard and shrugging. “At least this looks like Shepard, even if the nose is a bit—“

“I told you so,” Shepard said. She grinned at Nym, then leant in close to Thane. “Thank you for coming, and for them.”

The children’s shrieks filled her ears but Shepard remained fixed on Thane, on the curve of his face as the sunlight caught his colours and made him shine. He held her tightly.

“You are welcome, siha.” He kissed her, fingers in her hair, until she felt Dospi tug at her hand. It was time to go.

Shepard took Dospi’s hand. “Time to go home.”

Garrus fell into step behind her. They didn’t look back.

 

 

 

 


	9. darkness

It was strange to watch her bow beneath the weight of her illness. She held onto the pretence longer than most. With her glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, Shepard played at business as usual.

You can only run so far before things catch up.

Once we reach the confines of her cabin she allows herself to be caught. I bring her meds, help her out of her clothes, and lay down upon the bed beside her.

“I’m cold,” she chatters, tears streaming from her red rimmed eyes. Her skin is as hot as a stone left in the desert sun. “Will you keep me warm?”

I do not refuse. Her warmth is always of comfort to me, even now when it scalds. Her illness will pass. The other humans recovered within days.

Shepard’s teeth clack together as she buries her hot head into my chest. I rub my fingers across the soft skin at the back of her neck.

“Talk to me,” she murmurs. “I want to think about something else, something happy.”

Happy. I have happy memories. They are stars in a sea of darkness. Irikah, Kolyat, and now her. I cast further back, searching for something further away that is not steeped in loss.

“When I was a child, my father would take my sister and me to the beach. We would collect shells for my mother. She kept them beside her bed.”

I allow myself to dip inside my memories.

The sun is warm on our backs as we sit beside the rock pool. I put my feet into the water and tell Koritsa she need not be afraid. I will look after her. She is a year younger, and has followed me since the moment she could walk. Her hand was always in mine.

A creature clad in purple and orange sidles through the water towards my wriggling toes. Koritsa shrieks, and I catch it for her.

It can’t hurt you. Watch. It uses its pincers to grab onto my finger, and I am relieved to find that its grip is indeed painless.

We watch it for a few seconds longer before putting it back. Koritsa is brave now. She puts her feet into the water beside mine, and we watch how our skin changes colour in the ripples of light. Our feet look very small.

Father is calling us now. It will be time for home. Mother will have food on the table, the pot of tea will be bubbling, and there will be incense in the air.

She was praying that day. I did not know why at the time.

I was given over to the hanar a month later. There was no one to hold my hand.

Shepard lifts her head, and I wonder how much I have said.

“I didn’t know you had a sister. Have you spoken to her since you left?”

“No.”

There is quiet. Shepard’s breathing becomes low and even. Her fever breaks during the night.

It is some time before I need to visit my cabin again. Shepard insists I stay with her, and I do not refuse. Our time together is limited by a great many things. I take what I can.

My room seems smaller than I remember. The desk is clear. I find the book I am looking for on the small make shift shelf above my bed. Someone has been in here.

There is a datapad on the bed. The screen blinks on as I lift it. There is a name on the screen, and a dossier loads.

Koritsa Krios.

Her small hand in mine.

I think of Shepard’s head nestled against my skin, of the heat coursing through her veins, and the optimism that fuels her. That we will win, and that somehow we can come back through the relay alive.

Beyond that there is no hope. I have made some measure of peace with that.

I am prepared to lose. It is all I have known, it seems.

There is still one person who is not, someone who brought us here, who found my son, who keeps going no matter what the odds tell her. This is a gift from her. Now, in the last days of my life, she is teaching me something new.

To live whilst you still can, to fill each moment, to keep hoping even when the darkness is upon you. This is a fragment of hope.

It seems I too have something new to teach her. How to lose and keep going even when your heart is broken, and your hand is empty.

I put the datapad on the shelf. I still have much to learn.


	10. intonation

When I find Shepard she is sat at the table opposite Dospi. She is wearing her N7 vest, and a look she usually wears when a battle plan goes awry. She is puffy eyed and tousle haired. She stares at the little drell girl warily.

Last night was the first night with Dospi under our roof. We brought her home when darkness had already fallen, and tucked the sleeping child into her freshly made bed. There we left her.

After many months of planning, our family is complete.

Dospi is talking, babbling a string of words as she alternates between eating her breakfast and mashing it into her plate. She is too busy memorizing her new surroundings to notice the tension in the human who watches her so intently.

I wonder how long they have been sat like this. Communication is, at this point, impossible. Dospi is too young for a translator chip, and Shepard’s grasp of our language is rudimentary at best.

We attempted some lessons once the adoption was confirmed. We agreed on a list of words, switched off our communicators, and attempted to work through the various terms I had deemed useful.

I pronounced the first word. Shepard remained silent. She stared at me, cheeks darkening, fidgeting in the chair and moving imperceptibly closer.

My memory gave me a distinct advantage.

“I can’t do this, and right now I don’t care,” she said, leaning into me.

“I, however, can understand you.” My foray into human tongue surprised her. She laughed and covered her face for a second before peeking at me through her fingers and saying “Keep talking. Not in English.”

She caught on somewhere half way through the shopping list, but her clothes were already on the floor.

Now Shepard is lost in a way she has never been, but she deals with it head on as she always does. She settles down in front of Dospi and attempts to speak in drell.

Her pronunciation is off, but here and there are intonations she has learnt from me. She starts small.

“How are you?”

Dospi shows no sign of surprise. She accepts the strangely delivered words without judgement and with a smile.

“Good,” she says, slapping her hand down decisively. “I want to play. Can we play, Seepa?”

I make my move into the room from the doorway, and both heads turn to watch me.

Two faces light up with a smile at my approach, and the floor shifts beneath my feet, memories rushing by in an instant.

I am grateful beyond words for the gifts that gods have chosen to bestow upon me.

The sunshine is bright outside. I catch the scent of the sea in my lungs and feel a pull towards the new memories that we will make, this little girl, my siha, and I.

“We can play once you are clean. I can teach you how to swim. You can teach… “

I am at a loss. We never discussed this. It seems impersonal to call her Shepard now. I catch Shepard’s eye, and she rises from the table and goes to the little girl with a cloth in her hand.

“Cora,” Shepard says. The enunciation is perfect, and I place it instantly. Ennai has taught her this. “My name is Cora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Jen, for everything <3


	11. dance

It was supposed to be, according to Samara, a subtle, delicate, act. It was an act all the same.

Shepard knew how to play a part. She opened her closet and brushed her fingers over the clothes in there—dress blues, formal tunics, and the awful dress Kasumi had chosen. There was one other dress.

She’d seen it the last time they were on the Citadel. It had been in the window of a high-end store, but there had been no time to stop for shopping. Instead she had ordered it through her omni-tool, and placed it carefully in her closet along with the belief that she would ever actually get to wear the thing.

If there was such a thing as fate then it was smiling on her now.

She pulled the dress out, laid it on the bed, and went to get ready.

Hair washed and flattened, glitter dusted across her shoulders, Shepard slipped into the dress. Once upon a time she would have killed for this dress. Now she knew better.

The fabric was of the darkest grey. It was the colour of a storm, inlayed with tiny gems that caught the light as she moved.  There were no straps. The cleverly made bodice hugged her body and kept it in place, skin tight until it met the top of her thighs. From there the fabric was layered into a cloud that swirled around her legs.

There was something missing. Shepard crossed back to her bed and pulled the small knife from under her pillows. She strapped it to her leg and stood back to look at her reflection.

It might not be layers of bullet proof weave, but it was armour all the same.

The door opened.

“Thane,” Shepard said, her back to him as she picked the omni-tool bracelet up from her desk. “Thank you for coming.”

He stopped by the stairs, maintaining a conspicuous distance. “What do you wish me to do?”

Shepard squashed her hair down and sat on the bed. “I need you to keep an eye on me. I’m going hunting in Afterlife. I’m the bait.”

“I see.” Thane fixed his gaze on the wall somewhere behind her. “And you need me as back-up?”

“Yes. No-one can know you are there, not the prey or Samara.”

That caught his attention. Thane frowned slightly as he looked at her. His eyes fluttered, regarding her for a long moment before resuming their watch of the wall. “I will avoid the Justicar’s attention. What would you like me to do if the hunt does not go as planned?”

Shepard stood up and slipped her feet into the high heels she’d chosen. They gave her an inch over Thane. “I want you to keep me alive.”

“Understood. I will watch over you, Shepard.”

“Thanks. You’re the only one I can trust to do this.”

Thane bowed, a quick bend of the waist, and retreated.

Everything was in place. Shepard left the _Normandy,_ striding through Omega. She hadn’t been out like this in a long time. She’d prowled night clubs in search of entertainment of one description or another back on earth. It felt like slipping back into her past.

Long strides, watching the world move around her as she walked into Afterlife and felt the beat vibrate through her chest. The hunt was on.

\---

Afterlife had grown dirtier in the intervening years. The only thing that had changed was the clientele.

Thane resumed his usual spot and waited.

He had completed numerous contracts in the dark there. Sometimes poison. A knife in the shadowy corners sometimes sufficed. Today there was no-one worthy of his interest.

There was a slight shift in those nearest the door, a turning of heads that told him someone of note was arriving.

Shepard strode in, her legs flickering in and out of the darkness of her dress. She looked like trouble. Taut skinned, lean, trouble. Her muscles slid easily beneath her skin as she moved through the crowd. The black of her hair made her a shadow in the dim light.

Only the occasional gleam of her dress marked her out. There had been glitter spread across Shepard’s collarbones. He shook the recollection off and watched.

She was untroubled, at ease in the dress she had chosen as she was at ease on the battlefield with a gun in her hand. It was interesting.

The crowd bored him, and it made his job easier. When the asari started circling closer she stood out.

It wasn’t until Shepard started dancing that the hunter committed to the kill, and Thane could see why.

Shepard lost herself when she danced.

The Commander was cast off in favour of this lithe stranger. She moved without care, hips shifting to the beat, the second skin of her dress displaying each and every nuance of her finely tuned body.

She knew he was there. The thought licked across his skin.

When the asari closed in, her lips at Shepard’s ear, Thane let his thoughts fall away into silence. The hunt was on, and he was Shepard’s guardian as she had been his.

\---

Though she had been afraid of Samara’s description, once she was confronted with Morinth Shepard felt not fear but curiosity. This was a creature of legend, and even if things did go wrong there was Thane.

The words of the asari held no sway over her. When Samara entered the room, Shepard felt the shadow at the edge of her consciousness retreat. Once Morinth was dead, killed by her own mother, it was just the two of them, and the awful grief that penetrated Shepard’s armour.

Of course she had known what was coming. She had played her part to perfection.

As Samara left, heading back to the ship, Shepard told herself that this had been the only way. It couldn’t relieve her of the moment in that room. The soft snapping of bone underfoot.

“Shepard.” Thane unfurled from the shadows. He stood closer this time. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes,” she said, answering before she’d even had chance to process his request. “I would.”

He offered her his arm, and she let him escort her through Omega on deserted paths. When they reached the non-descript door, she stopped and frowned down at Thane.

His confidence reassured her. She stepped through the door after him and found herself in a club.

It was dark, the air tinged with smoke. This was not so much a club as a den. The dance floor was empty.

Thane spoke with the doorman who waited just inside, and within moments they were shown to a booth located near the very back of the room. It sat slightly higher than the rest, affording a good view of the entrance and the bar.

A waitress appeared and Thane ordered.

She returned with a tall glass of golden liquid, and a tumbler containing barely a finger width of drink.

Shepard raised the tall glass that Thane pushed over to her. “Cheers.”

He touched his glass to hers. “Cheers.”

“I don’t usually drink,” Shepard said, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a long sip. It was icy cold, but still her lips and throat were warmed as she swallowed it down, her stomach fizzing.

“I am aware of that. I chose accordingly.”

“What is this?” She took another sip and closed her eyes.

“It is a drink derived from an asari fruit. They once used it in their meditation rituals. It brings peace.”

The warmth spread through her limbs. Shepard opened her eyes to see Thane taking a drink. He tilted his glass between his fingers, savouring the scent before letting the liquid touch his lips.

“It’s good. I haven’t felt this good since…” She waved her hand and gave up trying to remember. “What did you choose?”

“Whisky.”

“May I?” Shepard slid closer to Thane and took the glass as he laid it down. The whisky smelt of smoke. It burnt like fire in her throat. “Ah. Another good choice.”

“We must take what pleasures we can,” Thane said, his voice almost lost over the music. “Life is fleeting for people such as us. It makes sense to enjoy what we have left.”

The reminder hurt. She hadn’t expected it to, but it stung every time she thought on it. Thane had never been anything but open about his illness. Somehow it was her that avoided the topic.

“Humans like making lists,” Shepard said, watching the dance floor. “I don’t know why. I guess it must be an attempt at imposing order on chaos. Sometimes people make lists of things they’d like to do before they die.”

She glanced at Thane. He looked back.

“Is there anything you’d like to do before you die?” she asked.

Thane set his glass down. “There is one thing.”

He got to his feet and held out his hand. “May I?”

Shepard hesitated. Her mouth opened with a question, but Thane took her hand anyway, and she followed him down to the dance floor.

“I don’t know how to…”

“I will lead.”

“No, wait,” Shepard said, reaching down to pull her shoes off. She threw them to the side of the dance floor and looked down at her bare feet next to Thane’s boots. He stepped closer.

“Look at me.” Thane brushed his finger under her chin.

She met his eyes.

He moved slowly, walking her through steps with patient encouragement. She gained confidence, and with it she gained speed, her hands clasped in his.

The odd fumbles were met with a raise of the eyebrows and a simple “Again.”

The dance became easier. The movements ceased to be a matter of concentration, and Shepard found herself not thinking of them but in them. They moved together.

There was no more watching of feet. Shepard watched Thane, found herself breathless as they moved through the dance one more time.

Together they went from beginning to end, only to start again.

Each footstep was perfect. Thane’s hands no longer guided her. She moved with him, catching sight of their feet upon the floor as they met in the middle only to swirl apart.

When Thane touched his fingers to her chin, drawing her gaze, Shepard felt her heart leap. Wordless, breathless, they started again.

It was perfect.

In the darkness, hands touching, they moved without flaw. It was the first time she had danced like this. It would most likely be the last.

Thane had lost the frown from his face. The dance was drawing to a close.

He caught her off guard.

Shepard thought she knew the steps. She had always known what to do. The pressure of his leg, the hand at her back, it changed her balance, and Shepard tensed. Her instincts told her to jerk upright. Something else told her to let go.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them Shepard found herself looking up at the ceiling. Thane held her easily, his body curved around hers into a perfect dip.

Across the room someone cheered. The moment vanished.

Thane pulled her upright.

Shepard smoothed her dress down, her thoughts drifting back to the messy tangle of her life. She should go and visit Samara. “We should probably get back.”

“Of course.”

This time Thane did not offer his arm. He waited as she slipped her shoes back on and followed him out of the club. The air outside was little better. Shepard felt a chill spread across her flushed skin, and she wrapped her arms around herself, hoping to keep some warmth.

A scream echoed down the long corridors, causing them both to pause.

There was nothing but silence.

Shepard caught Thane’s gaze. He slipped his jacket off, and draped it gently around her shoulders. His warmth infused the fabric.

“Thank you,” Shepard said. She gathered it closer as they moved through the filthy corridors, her attention now firmly on the path in front of them. It would not do to get complacent on Omega.

“I’m sorry to you had to see that tonight. Morinth, I mean. She’s… she was an Ardat Yakshi,” Shepard said, stepping over a piece of debris.

“Demon of the night winds,” Thane said. “I have heard stories of them. It must be hard burden to bear, knowing your child to be a killer.”

“To have to kill them.” Shepard shook her head. “Thank you for keeping me safe. And for the drink.”

“You are welcome, Shepard. There is one more thing I must ask.”

She stopped. They were one corridor away from the _Normandy_ and safety. “I think I owe you an answer at least. What is it?”

“Is there anything you wish to do before you die?” Thane regarded her steadily.

Her feet were hurting. Weariness was starting to weigh her down. Shepard stepped out of her shoes, dropped a couple of inches, and sighed at the cold floor against her sore feet.

There were so many things she wanted. She’d died once, and as she died that first time, the only thing she’d wanted was air. The nightmares still came and left her gasping. Every day she got out of bed and acted as though these things had left her untouched.

“I wanted to wear this dress,” Shepard said faintly.

Thane touched his finger to her chin. “Again,” he whispered.

“I want to stop pretending. Just for a little while.” She was no longer shivering. There had been no pretence as she danced.

“You do not have to pretend for me, siha,” Thane said. He leant in, his breath warm in her hair. “I will carry your secrets across the sea.”

“I’ve never seen the sea.” Shepard almost laughed, her head sinking onto Thane’s shoulder, her hands longing to slip into his one more time.

Thane pulled back, one eyebrow raised. He adjusted the collar of his coat until it was smooth against Shepard’s neck. “Your planet’s surface is 71.13 per cent water, and you have yet to see the sea.”

Shepard shrugged. “I’ve been busy, but there’s still time.” Not much. Certainly not as much as she would hope for, but enough.

“I would very much like to see a desert,” Thane admitted.

“Then I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you a desert if you show me the sea.”

“Agreed.”

There was no guarantee. The promise of such a thing was enough.

She led the way back to the ship, unable to keep the grin from her face. Once they reached the airlock, Shepard took the coat from her shoulders and handed it back. “Good night, Thane.”

He bowed. “I will hold you to our agreement.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Shepard returned to her cabin. She washed, flattened her hair, and got into her night clothes before climbing into bed.

Across the room her dress hung neatly on the wall.

 

 

 


	12. storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Qistina over on Tumblr. Sorry it is so late <3

The little noise caught her attention. It was a noise she hadn’t heard in a long time—a half growl of discomfort. A note of despair. Thane was dreaming.

The pale light emanating from the bathroom showed his fists clenching, the white covers rumpled beneath him. His eyelids flickered restlessly. One word came from his throat.

“Shepard.”

She left the light on and padded back towards the bed. Once there she turned the air-con up a notch, cast a look out at the dark sky outside, and got back into bed. The sheets were already cold.

Thane stirred. His eyes opened and he reached for her. “I’m cold.”

“Me too.” Shepard climbed carefully on top of him and lowered herself down. Her hips were flush with his. She draped her arms across his chest and lowered her chin onto them. “Better?”

“Better.” He touched one finger to the side of her face and gave a tired laugh. “Did you get some rest?”

“Eventually.” Shepard splayed her fingers across his skin, the texture rolling beneath her fingertips. The scars formed ridges across the muscle of his chest. “I should be used to sleeping in new places by now. I’ve been in enough of them.”

“None so quiet.”

They both listened past the sound of their breathing. Nothing stirred in the early hours, though the hotel was soundproofed to such an extent that the silence was almost constant.

Last night a snow storm had torn through the valley. The mighty trees bowed beneath the wind, the air was filled with ice crystals, and the sky darkened to an angry purple. Sat in the lounge watching, they had heard none of it. The storm couldn’t touch them.

Shepard sighed and rested her head on one side. “What were you dreaming about? You sounded afraid.”

“My dreams have been unkind of late,” Thane said, his gaze flicking to the gauzy window and the ribbon of red that ran across the sky. “I remember things. Unpleasant things. I find myself in that moment again.”

To ask would be to bring them back to life once more. Shepard caught the light reflected in his eyes. “Red sky at night, shepherds delight. Red sky at morning, shepherds warning.”

Thane frowned. “I do not understand.”

“It’s an old saying. Come on, let’s go outside.” She was up and getting ready before Thane had even stirred from bed. He was repeating her words to himself, mouth moving slightly, fingers flicking over his omni-tool.

“Weather lore,” he said eventually.

Shepard struggled into her thick trousers, snapped the braces into place and searched for her coat. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.”

It took Thane a long time to get ready. Layer upon layer, until the only visible part of him was the eyes staring out from his large hat and knitted cowl. He offered her a gloved hand, and together they left the silent hotel and entered the dawning day.

The red of the sky had grown. Shepard felt a memory of her own as she took her eyes from the horizon and started walking. There had been reapers amidst the fiery crimson sky, dropping to the ground where they razed everything. At night she still heard the blasts.

In every footprint she left behind there were the ghosts of all those she had failed to save.

“Where are we going?” Thane asked. His voice was almost inaudible.

“Up.” She didn’t offer anything else. There was a ridge opposite the hotel that was recommended in all the literature. This was their first trip out of the hotel since arrival, and she wanted to make it count.

As the wind grew stronger, and their footsteps faded, Shepard wondered if she should have heeded the warning.

The storm hit before they’d made it to the top, bearing down on them with a dark howl that wiped out the sky and left them clinging to each other. Off to the side of the path was a forest. It seemed the best option.

Shepard led Thane beneath the trees and crouched down with her back against the rough bark. She could feel nothing through the thick fabric of her coat, but as she pulled off her hat to expose her sweaty head to the cool air, the scent of fallen leaves was strong.

It reminded her of the pine forests back on Earth. These leaves were little bigger than pine needles. Broader, a different shade of green, but equally pungent. She used one hand to rifle through the leaf litter.

“Your weather warning was correct,” Thane said. He settled next to her and tugged the neck of his knitwear down. Puffs of steam rose from his mouth.

“It was.” She smiled. “It will take more than a storm to bring us down.”

“Indeed.” Thane rested his head against the tree. His footprints had gone. The dreams that woke him were unlike hers, that she knew. Irikah was always at his side.

“One day it will be as though we were never here,” Shepard murmured.

“There you are wrong. Your legacy will continue for many years. You saved a galaxy from ruin.” Thane made as if to cross his legs and gave up as the thick fabric hampered his movement. “You guarded your flock well, Shepard.”

She lifted a handful of leaves onto her lap. The statues, the placques, and the ceremonies, they all meant nothing.

In her final moments she had greeted death with equal relief and regret. Out in the stars, and facing the Crucible, it had all taught her one thing.

This moment was what mattered. The cold seeping into her hair. The wind tearing past with its burden of white snowflakes obscuring all else from view. The drell sheltering at her side, weary from his nightmares.

“One day it will be as though we were never here,” she repeated. Shepard got down on her knees, leaves scattering, and crawled over to Thane. “But right now, here we are.”

She pulled her gloves off and cupped his face. Thane watched her, let her pull the fabric from his mouth and cover his lips with hers. It was there that Shepard found everything she wanted. Her measure of peace, hard fought for.

“I believe I needed that reminder,” Thane whispered against her mouth. He bundled her to him, and together they waited for the storm to finish.

The clouds parted. Overhead was nothing but blue, sunlight rendering every snow crystal brilliant.

They trudged together over the starry blanket of snow, up to the crest of the ridge, and the silent view that awaited them.

The whole world lay at their feet. It was only then that Shepard grew brave enough to ask. “What were you dreaming about?”

“I was back on board the Normandy. The message came through that Garrus and Kaidan needed collecting. It was then that I knew.” Thane held her hand tighter, facing the wide horizon with his feet firmly planted in the snow. “I see the Crucible, the ship leaving you behind as I stand there unable to reach you. The stars turn red.”

“I wanted to come back to you,” Shepard said. “Every time I woke, I wanted to see you again.”

There had been blood, and pain, and her scream echoing in her ears as all around her the world fell apart. There had been little comfort in knowing her job was done as the metal gouged into already torn flesh, and her heart kept on beating.

She watched the sun rising but felt no warmth. They would always carry these things. It was who they were now. The silver raised scars, the shared pain, and the ache of things they could not change.

There was not one moment she would exchange.

“Shall we go back?” Shepard asked.

The room would be warm. In the kitchens they would be preparing breakfast.

“Not yet.” Thane didn’t look at her. He kept tight hold of her hand. In the quiet a bird was singing. “I will one day leave this world, as will you. Until then, I will walk at your side and hope to ease your nightmares as you ease mine.”

Shepard inhaled deeply and held on.

Back at the hotel, with night falling in a blush across the sky, Shepard sat at Thane’s side. Her dress was comfortable. Her belly full of food. Outside, in the purple of the ridge’s shadow, she believed she could see their footprints.

Darkness took them. The next morning they were gone.

 

 

 


	13. tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Jen. She sent me a prompt a while ago based on Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm.

For the first time since boarding the _Normandy_ , Thane was unable to sleep. Restlessness slipped through him, driving him from the narrow cot and out into the empty corridors of the ship.

Usually sleep found him within moments. Not so this night. As he walked, Thane sifted through the memories that lay on the surface of his mind. There was one he had returned to four times now.

The first mission. Thane reached the mess hall and set his body to making tea whilst his mind wandered. It had been back on Haestrom. His first mission with Shepard. He had been aware of her eyes upon him during the mission, taking his measure no doubt, it was a sensible option. He had been doing just that with regards to her.

First there was the persona created by the media. Noble, and somewhat chilly. Onboard the ship her crewmates treated her with perfect deference, all aside from the turian. Their bond was close, but not one that went beyond friendship.

Whatever her crews reaction, she treated all but the turian just the same. Shepard kept them at arms-length. Her smile rarely reached her eyes but she missed nothing. Her skill with a weapon had been apparent from the moment she disrupted his plans back at the tower. As for everything else, he would have to wait and see.

That had been his plan on Haestrom.

Shepard had fought well. Her tactics had, for the most part, paid off. Until the geth hunters showed up.

Thane had dealt with them rarely, and usually only as an obstacle whilst on the way to his target. Their numbers had started to increase.

From their cover, he had seen Shepard calculating the odds. That was when things shifted. The turian needed no words. When Shepard vanished, it was Thane left wondering.

He missed the first hunter’s corpse crashing to the floor. He caught only a glimpse of the second.

By the third, he had her. A shimmer in the air, behind the ghost of the hunter, and then she became substance. Commander Shepard materialized, black in her armour, red stripe glinting as her glowing fist punched through the back of the hunters head.

The move was swift and precise.

Throughout Thane’s years of training, he had grown to appreciate skill when he found it in others. Sometimes it was to be exterminated. Other times it was to be admired. The jolt that ran through him was a surprise.

For only a second Shepard’s dark eyes had remained visible, sweeping over his perch, before she vanished.

Thane let the memory go. He lifted the steaming cup of tea, and continued on his walk.

It led him down to the shuttle bay.

Stood at the centre was Shepard. She held a long stick in her hand that Thane recognized from training. The other was on the floor a few metres away.

“Krios,” Shepard said, keeping the stick still. “I had a feeling you’d come.”

Thane put his tea to one side and accepted the silent invitation. The stick was light and well balanced in his hands. He noted that Shepard made no movement. She watched.

“It’s only natural to want to test your skill. To see how it measures up,” she said with a faint smile. “I expect you’ll have me flat on my back within seconds.”

Thane raised an eyebrow.

Shepard’s composure fractured, her breath hissing inwards.

“You already know the outcome, and yet you are still here,” Thane replied.

“I wanted to see for myself.” Shepard drew herself into a fighting stance. There were bruises visible across the tops of her arms. The knuckles on her right hand were red. Her grip was steady.

Thane mirrored her stance. The silence between them did not last long.

The sticks connected as Shepard made the first move and danced out of reach.

He had trained long and hard. To fight back was as natural as breathing, his every muscle taught since the age of six. Thane parried, gauging her strength, the arc of her swing, and the speed of her footwork.

There was no doubt about it. He was faster. His strike was swift, and still it missed. When he raised his eyes and found Shepard watching him, her dark gaze intent upon him, Thane felt it again. That jolt running through to his feet.

His speed had been countered against. Shepard had changed her tactics to meet his. Where she lacked speed, she made up for it with cunning, and with the judicious application of biotics.

Thane allowed her to lead for a time, the stick vibrating against his palms with every strike.

Short bursts of biotics leant Shepard speed where needed. She fought him with fierce grace, her muscled human body serving her well enough to bring her within a few strokes of victory. That was not what she was playing for.

This was a test. She was measuring him, looking for his weaknesses, prying at his defences.

Though he countered easily, Thane knew it was too late. The jolt had connected with something inside him. She was through his defences already.

Shepard withdrew, hesitating as she looked at him. She was breathing hard. “I think that’s enough.”

“You are still standing,” Thane said. The increase in his heart rate was not due to his exertions. He stood before her, unable to tear himself from her strange pull even as confusion caught him.

She smiled. It did not stop at her lips, altering the language of her face until he could no longer comprehend the creature standing in front of him.

That smile was for him. He had found some measure of her, and found himself wanting more.

“You went easy on me. A shrewd move.” Shepard pushed some hair from her face. “I’m not your commanding officer. I’m not even paying you.”

“No.” Thane knew what she was seeking—some way of framing them. “I am your weapon, to be used as you see fit.”

It would be an honour.

Shepard nodded as she considered his words. “Thank you, Krios.”

“I prefer Thane. My employers call me Krios.”

“Thane,” she said, his name on her lips. “Until next time.”

Shepard gave him a bow. He returned it, waiting for her to leave before recalling his mug of tea. It was tepid.

Thane looked through the liquid to the bottom of his cup. There were no answers hidden in the shifting sediment. He had chosen this mission even through the depths of his battle sleep, almost as though he had glimpsed light beckoning him back to the surface.

It had been safer in the dark. It was what he knew. There was something stirring within him. Whether it was a call from the gods he could not say. In the darkness of Shepard’s eyes he had seen something that shook him from peace and back to life.

There would be no peace unless he heeded its call. Thane returned to his quarters.

He had plans to make. It was time to change tactics.

 


	14. laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a warm up for me as I've hardly done any writing since Nano. Apologies if it is a bit rusty. Also, this is based on some headcanon of mine. Since finding out that Keythe Farley does the voice direction for Adventure Time, I've headcanoned that Thane actually loves kids cartoons.

It was the sounds that came back to her first. They crept in, pulling at memories, and breaking through the weight that held her down.

There were bubbles. Sometimes they were faint. Other times she could almost see the blue of the sea through her eyelids.

Accompanying that was the low pulse of a machine. It kept her company as consciousness ebbed and returned her to the shore once again.

There she dreamed of voices, or maybe they were memories.

Miranda’s clipped tones. A quiet rumble from Garrus. When she searched for the other voice she found nothing except whispers.

Shepard kept looking.

It was a laugh that tugged her back. It was rich and unexpected, triggering memories that played as light through smoke, and forced Shepard to try again for that seemingly unreachable goal.

_Thane._

The laugh sounded again. Beneath it there were small voices, like those of children, and with a last sigh Shepard sank again.

The sound of her name broke the slumber.

“Shepard?”

Pain, faint but insistent, brought her body back into sharp focus. She couldn’t move, and she found that she didn’t want to. Every instinct told her things were very wrong. Her throat felt dry. There was something in her nose.

When she spoke it hurt. “Garrus?”

“Easy there, Shepard. How are you feeling?”

His voice steadied her. Shepard chose the shortest word. “Awful. I want to…” She tried to shake her head, and the small movement set her skin on fire. “See…I—“

“You don’t remember?” He made a small noise. It was the one that he always used when he was about to impart some bad news. “The last time you woke Miranda was here. She explained that you won’t be able to see for a while yet.”

“Last time?” Shepard remembered nothing.

“You were pretty out of it.”

“Shit.”

“Eloquent as always,” Garrus said, and she felt his talons brush across the thing that might have been an arm once.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Shepard managed to reply. The effort was exhausting. She could hear the bubbles still, and the heartbeat of the machine beside her. There was no whisper.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.”

There didn’t seem to be anything deserving in this. Shepard felt only fire, and she was gone again, slipping away into merciful sleep.

\---

The pillows were deliciously comfortable. Shepard buried down in them, letting the fine cotton soothe her still tender skin.

In the other room there was a laugh.

Beneath the covers, Shepard felt her breath hitch, and she was back in that room, her body broken and her mind wandering.

She got up, to prove to herself that she could, and headed for the sound.

Thane was laughing. From the screen she heard the chime of children’s voices again, exactly as they had been, so clear that Shepard wondered if this was how drell lived every second—each moment overlaid with the ones that had come before.

He was watching a cartoon.

Shepard watched from the doorway for a few seconds, identifying it as children’s television.

“Come in, Siha.”

She did so, folding herself in next to Thane on the sofa.

He tucked a soft blanket over her legs and draped one arm gently across her shoulders. With that, he returned his attention to the cartoon.

Shepard did not. His every laugh vibrated through her. It was irresistible. She couldn’t help grinning as she watched him, so absorbed in the cartoon, laughing until it shook the sofa.

Was this what he had done as he waited in the room with her? She’d thought he was the one whispering. Garrus had told her afterwards that Thane rarely left her side during those months in the hanar hospital.

They had moved her to a hospital on the surface before her vision returned, and the quiet stream of bubbles had ceased. Her ever sharpening view had been of a window and a pale room. The whispering had stopped.

Thane had been a green and black blur at her side. He hadn’t left. At night he would read until she fell asleep. In the morning he would wake her with a murmur informing her of the doctor’s arrival.

She had put up with it. There really hadn’t been any other choice.

After the Crucible, this was her life.

The credits scrolled, and Shepard felt able to speak. “You watched this when you were with me in the hospital. This episode.”

Thane turned, his eyelids fluttering as he looked at her. There were moments playing through him, times when he had looked at her face, and Shepard knew which one he was seeing.

“You were unconscious. I had remained at your side throughout the night, begging Kalahira to spare your life. By morning, you were ‘critical but stable’.”

Thane touched his fingers to her scarred cheek. “I went looking for a distraction, one that kept me at your side.”

“Cartoons?” Shepard asked with a smile. She took hold of his hand.

“Yes. I did not have the luxury of watching them as a child.”

“Neither did I.”

Outside a bird called out as it circled overhead. The sun was already warming the tiles where it touched them on the floor.

“There is no war. No places to be,” Thane said, untangling himself from the blanket and getting to his feet.

To her surprise he closed the shutters firmly. Faint bars of light shone through the slats and in from the kitchen door.

“I will make tea. Afterwards we will watch more cartoons. We have some catching up to do. There are another three seasons after this, and you haven’t seen the first one.”

Shepard grinned up at him. The fighting had been worth it, every second of pain, every scar. “Okay.”

She stretched out on the sofa once he’d gone, absorbing his warmth.

Soon there would be tea, and more laughter, and an entire day to waste as they pleased. No, not waste, Shepard corrected herself. This was their day. This was what she deserved. 


	15. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jess, who shared this wonderful idea with me a while ago. She's also a damn fine writer if you want to look her up. http://archiveofourown.org/users/War_Lioness/pseuds/War_Lioness

Name: Cora Shepard (Unconfirmed)

Status: Unregistered

Age: 17/18 (Further tests needed)

Parents: Unknown

Record: Suspected transport theft, drug dealing, assault, petty theft (Lack of registered status hampered convictions, full work up to be completed and ident to be formalised after meeting with Intermediary) Arrested in connection with gang violence—2 members of ‘Tenth Street Reds’ found dead (Cause of death: stab wounds)

Intermediary assigned: Rose McGregor

* * *

 

The report was nothing new. Rose slid the datapad across the desk so that the girl could see it. She’d said nothing since her arrest. If Rose was correct, the anticipation of reprisal was keeping Cora quiet.

“Do you understand what this report means?”

The girl didn’t look up. Her eyes remained fixed on the cuffs that bound her for every meeting.

“It means,” Rose said, taking the datapad back and switching it off, “that once the full report is complete, you’ll be heading to prison. Unless we can find something to get you out of this.”

Cora slumped in her chair. “There’s nothing. Just leave me alone.”

“There’s no direct evidence linking you to the scene,” Rose pushed, grabbing another file from her bag and opening it. “All they have is the word of a grass. Could be you’re the innocent victim of a gang grudge. If we play this right, we could reduce your—“

“No.” Cora jerked to her feet. She stared, grey eyed and immovable, until Rose felt the uncomfortable need to look away. “There’s nothing. I’m done.”

“Guard!” Rose called, leaning backwards in the chair. She shifted a little before giving up. There was no comfort to be had in this place.

The door swung open, and Cora was led away.

It was always the same. Still, Rose hadn’t given up on a case yet. She raged at the system that created these kids, consuming their lives in a cycle that the higher ups conveniently ignored.

There was still time. Rose gathered her things and left.

\---

 

Outside the sun was shining. In here, there was only artificial light, and the distant screams of other girls as they awaited processing. Cora would be meeting this fate.

She seemed listless. Her hair had been roughly chopped, leaving her face free of its usual straggle. It was surprising how much of a difference it made. Cora lifted her chin, and in that motion, Rose found her spirits lifted.

“Alright.” Rose shoved her sleeves up and opened the report.

Cora leaned forwards. She set her hands on the desk. “Those tattoos?”

“Oh.” Rose held out her arm. “You like them? I got this one done when was I was eighteen. And this one…” She pointed to a rose that appeared to be carved into her arm. “I got this done the day I got married. Beautiful isn’t it.”

The nod she received from Cora was encouragement enough.

“Cora. This is it. Unless we can find something in this damned report—“

“You can swear,” Cora said. “I won’t tell anyone.” She sat back, but kept her eyes on Rose.

“Okay. This piece of shit report. Still, has to be done.” She caught the faint smile on the girls face, opened the report, and started skimming through.

There was nothing here but a jail sentence. Rose sighed and reached for Cora’s hand.

Cora drooped, chin down, hands sliding back into her lap with a soft grate of metal.

“I’m sorry. Maybe there’s something in the medical,” Rose said, forcing a smile onto her face. She smoothed the page down. Her mouth fell open. “Well, I’ll be a… Look at this.”

Cora gave it a cursory glance. “Means nothing to me.”

“It should. This is the golden ticket,” Rose said, starting the process of dragging out files that hadn’t seen the light in months.

The one on top bore the Alliance logo.

“Biotic capability,” Rose read, flicking through forms on her datapad until she reached the right one. She took out her battle glasses and shoved them on. “This means I can delay your sentence. What I need from you is your consent, and your promise that you’ll try this.”

“Try what?”

Rose laughed aloud. “Don’t even try that one with me. I know you’ve seen biotics where you come from. You tested positive for eezo exposure. The Alliance will snap you up, so long as you play the game.”

Realization was starting to dawn. The girl had gone still, her eyes fixed on the folder now open on the desk. She turned her palms upwards, and she smiled.

“Eezo,” Cora whispered. “So that’s what it was.”

“You’ll have to apply for the extended programme. But it’s better than prison,” Rose said. She finished the form with a few jabs. “I’ll send this once you promise me you’ll try.”

Cora looked at her. She nodded once. “I don’t want to go to prison. I didn’t mean for any of this.”

Rose grabbed her hand. “Promise.”

“I promise.”

There was a lot to get done. Rose swept everything back into her bag, jumped to her feet, and started for the door.

“I’ll be back once this is through,” she called over her shoulder. “They talk to you, be polite and be repentant. Give them what they’re looking for, whether you feel it or not. Best way to get where you’re going.”

“Who is he?”

The question gave her pause. “Who’s who?” She glanced back.

“The man you married,” Cora said with a smile.

“Not a man, a woman.” Rose pulled her bag onto her shoulder. “And not a human, an asari.”

She grinned as the door slammed behind her.

\---

 

There was definitely something different about Cora. She’d gained something. Perhaps it was hope that lit her up, made her sit straight in the chair, and greet Rose with a smile.

“McGregor doesn’t sound much like an asari name,” Cora said with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Why would I do something stupid like that when I have a name of my own?” Rose shook her head. She took out the next set of forms. “Fill these in, best you can. They want to hear why you’ve chosen the Alliance.”

Cora shrugged. “Because you told me to.”

“Oh no. First thing to learn about the Alliance is that they don’t like the truth, unless it suits them.” Rose stretched her arms above her head. She’d been up late going through everything until Mariala had declared enough was enough. The deal seemed too good to be true, provided they pass this.

“You’re smart. What do the Alliance want?” Rose prompted.

Fifteen minutes later, she read Cora’s statement and knew her faith had not been misplaced. She smiled and got one in return.

“This is good. This part here…” Rose tapped the third paragraph. “ _I grew up down here, always looking up at the sky and wondering. The Alliance is out amongst the stars. That’s where I want to be. I believe I can make a difference. What I lack in qualification, I make up for in experience. The Alliance looks after the weak. It protects the human race as we reach out to new places. I offer myself to the cause. I admit that my past actions may not fill you with confidence, but give me this chance. Let my future actions speak for me.”_

She closed the files and put them back in her bag.

The girl across the table was not the one she had first met. This was someone new.

“Think you can really do this?”

“Play them at their own game?” Cora gave a smile that bared her teeth. “Watch me.”

Rose got to her feet, pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin. The Committee were waiting for them. “Ready, Shepard?"

Cora nodded.

"Then let’s go to war.”

 


End file.
